


Masquerade

by kirana



Category: Smallville
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-21
Updated: 2006-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2109732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirana/pseuds/kirana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all fun and games until someone gets a boob in the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted October 21, 2006, [here](http://absolut-lex.livejournal.com/32689.html), for a challenge (Crossdresser Lex) on the [absolut_lex](http://absolut-lex.livejournal.com) comm. Re-posted to AO3 on Aug 9/14 to try to get all my fics in one place (maybe).

_"I'm going to be taking part in a ballroom dancing event, Clark."_

_"Ballroom dancing? Do people still do that?"_

_There had been a low chuckle. "Pay attention, Clark. Yes, people still 'do that' and even compete for prizes. The one I'm in, however . . . it's not really a competition. Call it . . . a charity masquerade. Prominent citizens dress up and make a donation, along with a pledge that, if they are 'unmasked', they will match what they've already donated."_

_Clark had digested that. "So . . . really it's like gambling. But with masks."_

_"That's a good way to put it. What I wanted to ask you, though, was, would you like to see it? You can even be one of the unmaskers, if you wish."_

_"Don't you think that's a little like . . . cheating?" Clark had asked. "I mean, I already **know** you, don't you think that would make it too easy?"_

_Another laugh. "Ah, but that's where our personal bet comes in, Clark. I'll wager your place of residence against--"_

_"Against a date," Clark had interrupted._

_"A date?" Lex had had the gall to sound amused. "Alright, I'll bite. With whom?"_

_"Yeah, and if you need to ask that, you'll find out when I **win**."_

_"A tiny bit confident, are we?"_

_"Uh, well, **yeah** , Lex. I doubt there's going to be a lot of **young** bald people there."_

_"Just, don't--how does it go? Don't put all your chickens in one basket."_

_"Eggs, Lex, eggs. Don't put all your **eggs** in one basket."_

_"Eggs, chickens, does it really matter?"_

_"If you want to be right, then yeah."_

***

That had been two weeks ago. Two weeks, Clark thought ruefully, weren't nearly long enough.

He was standing by the wall, living up to his reputation as a wallflower, and just _looking_. Lex, when he had told Clark about the whole thing, had implied it was a small affair. "Small" was _completely_ the wrong word to use, especially when the ballroom it was in approached--if not surpassed--the size of, well, of something that was pretty darn big. And people? _Packed_. Oh, enough room for the dancing, but one of the reasons he was in his little corner was because there was very little demand for a corner seat with the view of the room cut off by a exuberantly leafed potted tree.

The _other_ reason he was cowering in his corner was because of the visual cacophony going on out there. Roughly half the people were dressed up in extravagant costumes and masks and the other half, well . . . . He'd just say he was glad Lex had insisted on providing his clothes for the night, otherwise he wouldn't've had a hope of fitting in.

He glanced at the program in his hand. Uh-huh. It had a list of all the names of the people who had dressed up and offered prizes for the person who "unmasked" the most people. It also had a list of rules; he squinted at them, wondering how long he could take working out each and every way he could break them. Yeah, Lex was definitely a bad influence on him. And speaking of Lex, how the heck was he supposed to find him with all the feathered headdresses and fruit-hat-skets twirling around? Without x-ray vision, of course, because that would be cheating and it wasn't like the rule said anything about "no x-raying the contestants", so he was unable to come up with a justification to break a rule that wasn't there.

"Hey."

He jerked his head up, startling the girl who had just spoken to him. An abundant mass of dark red hair, almost outrageously curled, framed an oval face with silver eyes staring at him. She was wearing a floor length dress that _really_ brought it home that this was a _ballroom_ and he was attending a _ball_ , all in shades of flame. "Um, hey, sorry. Uh, did you need anything?" And then he winced, because the last thing he wanted was to be taken as one of the servers discreetly replenishing people's drinks. Lex would laugh himself sick if it happened _again_.

"Nooooo, I was just wondering who was hiding in the corner." She smiled at him and he grinned weakly back. She offered her hand to him. "Sandra Beaumont, at your service."

He took her hand and shook it gingerly. "Um, Clark Kent. And, uh, same to you." Somewhat to his alarm, she didn't let go of his hand and used it to tow him to a table that was definitely more within the melee that was, well, that _was_.

"There, now we can sit and talk like civilized people," she said with satisfaction as she let go of his hand and pulled a chair out for herself. "Don't let anyone tell you high heels are _easy_ ," she told him seriously.

He couldn't really see beneath her skirt--and he wasn't about to cheat, either!--but he kinda thought she had toed off her shoes for some relief. "Um, right." He took a chair and sat down, just a little ill at ease.

"You look a little out of place, Clark Kent," she said, giving him an appraising look. "Oops, no offence meant, sorry." She winced.

"It's okay," he said, then laughed self-deprecatingly. "I know this isn't exactly my scene. I'm, uh, actually here with a friend." He waved the program. "Well, here to _find_ a friend, really."

Sandra snagged the program from his hand and smoothed it out. "You are, huh? Who're you gunning for?"

"Uh, Lex Luthor, actually. He and I, we kinda made a bet on whether I would be able to find him."

She gave him a sharp look. "Uh-huh? Well, I guess he can't be _too_ hard to find; I mean, it's not like there's bald heads everywhere!" She laughed.

"Yeah, that's just what I told him," he muttered. "But how many bald heads can you actually see?"

She surveyed the ballroom. "Yeah, I see what you mean," she said, tapping the creased program against her lips. "Don't think he'd be dumb enough to _not_ cover up his head, distinctive feature that it is." She smacked the program down on the table, making Clark jump. "Tell you what, I'll help you find him."

"Isn't that against the rules?" he protested weakly.

"Rules are made to be broken," she told him firmly. "Do you want the help or not?"

"Ummm . . . ."

And that had really been his downfall. Shown the slightest hint of wavering, Sandra had taken it for an affirmative and had immediately pulled him out onto the dance floor, under the guise of "how are we going to find him if we don't know who anyone else is?". It was just his luck to get the helper looking to pick up a date.

After they'd been dancing, though--and he definitely wasn't going to thank Lex for those lessons, not after the _giggling_ he'd heard when Lex had come upon him trying out some dance steps; Lex, of course, had denied everything, including responsibility for global warming, but Clark was on to him--he had to admit Sandra was definitely not in it for the dancing. The third time he'd stepped on her foot alone told him that. Anyone just looking for a great date would ditch the one with two left feet.

"Take a look over there," Sandra said, spinning them so Clark could have the same view of confusing and conflicting colours as she had. "That one there, the wannabe geisha."

"What about her?" Clark asked. The person in question definitely wasn't Lex; she didn't move anything close to the right way.

"That's Bruce Wayne."

Clark's jaw dropped. "What?!"

Sandra laughed up at him. "Didn't you know?" she asked. "Gender appropriate clothing is optional tonight."

"Are you saying Lex could be going around dressed up like a _girl_?!"

"Rumour has it--not that I listen to rumour, the vile, evil seducer of innocence that it is," she hastened to add. "Rumour has it, he's done it before. Last year, in fact, he came as Alice in Wonderland and _still_ managed to emerge triumphant at the end of the ball. I have to say this for him, he still doubled his donation."

Clark swallowed. His mind was still stuck on Alice in Wonderland.

"--ark, hey, Clark, are you okay?" Sandra sounded concerned and he refocused on their surroundings to find her dragging him off the dance floor and to a table. "Here, sit, I'll be back with a drink for you."

He buried his head in his hands. Great, he really _was_ sunk now. He thought he only had to worry about half the people, but now it turns out that _anyone_ could be Lex. He moaned pitifully. It made his brain hurt.

The thought of Lex in a dress made . . . other parts of him hurt, too. Life was so unfair.

"Clark, I brought some water; didn't know what you liked," Sandra's voice said, rapidly approaching. He turned to greet her, but was struck dumb at the sight of the blue bottle in her hand. She looked from him to it uncertainly. "Clark? Is this . . . okay? I just grabbed the first water I saw, but I can go back if you like."

"Uh, no, that's okay." He smiled weakly up at her. "It was just a bit strange; Lex likes that particular brand." Yeah, and sucked it down like Clark wished Lex would . . . . And it was better for everyone all around if he didn't complete that sentence. He took the bottle from Sandra and opened it in an attempt to cover his raging . . . blush.

"I guess you _really_ must've been thirsty," she commented, watching him gulp it down like there was no tomorrow.

"Um, yeah, I was. So, uh, any other ideas on how to find Lex?"

"Well . . . you could look up all the girl's skirts." And then she was laughing at him and his beet-red face. "Kidding, I was kidding!"

"Maybe I was better off on my own," he moaned piteously, head dropped in his hands again. Sandra reached over and ruffled his hair.

"C'mon, farm boy, I'm only trying to help you find your friend!"

***

Clark was just about ready to admit defeat. More than ready, actually, and the only reason he hadn't is because Sandra--who'd stuck by his side the whole night and he didn't know whether he was grateful for the company or wanted to run away and hide from all the head-spinning she was making him do--had dismissed each and every attempt of his to gracefully bow out of the contest.

"Come on, Clark, I thought you said you two had a bet going! Are you going to let him win so easily?"

Clark considered that. No doubt Sandra was trying to be encouraging and make him want to continue the hunt, but . . . . He shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "If I lost, I had to move out of the dorms and into his penthouse. There's not much that'll beat _that_."

"Uh-huh." Sandra just looked at him. "And what would happen _if_ you won?"

Clark rubbed the back of his head. "I'd get a date out of it?" he tried.

"Yeah? With who?"

"Yeah, that's just what Lex asked, too," he muttered.

"So? Who is it you're going to break the heart of?"

"I didn't tell him and I'm not telling you. It's, it's kinda . . . private, okay?" No one could resist the pleading puppy eyes; he'd perfected them long ago.

Sandra huffed, but let it go. "Fine, don't tell me. But, c'mon, whoever it is, they _have_ to be important to you, don't they? What are you willing to do to get that date? After all, you were willing enough to turn up here; how much further are you going to go to get that date with that special someone in your life?"

Pretty darn far, actually. And it wasn't as if using x-ray vision _was_ on the taboo list, and never mind he'd decided not to use it at the beginning of the evening. If he didn't play with everything he had, then it was almost just like cheating, cheating to let Lex win. And Lex . . . now that he thought about it, that was kinda interesting. A few years back, he and Lex had had a conversation. Well, not really a conversation, as much as a vague and metaphorical discussion about how difference was the spice of life, which, since it was with _Lex_ , meant it was about Clark and his secrets. And, while Clark was no Lex when it came to mind-bending metaphors, he was pretty sure Lex had been telling him he knew and didn't see it as anything to get excited over. Either that or Lex had some _really strange_ roses in his garden. But the point was, Lex _knew_ and yet, hadn't hinted that use of, saying, special rose-looking powers were to be avoided.

And all that was justification for using his x-ray vision.

On the other hand, whatever worked, worked and he actually really _did_ want that date.

He started with the dance floor; he figured he had to start somewhere and it might as well the busiest area. Err. That didn't really make any sense, but, since he was already scanning and squinting, maybe it was best to just go with it. It required a delicate touch, to use his x-ray vision and not just see the bones of everyone. He had just settled himself into the groove when his shoulder was shaken.

"Clark, are you going to answer me?" Sandra's aggravated voice asked him. He automatically swung his gaze to Sandra, but neglected to flip that little switch in his brain that would turn the x-ray vision off.

Boobs. There were boobs. Staring him in the face. When had Sandra stood up anyway? And, more to the point, why was she standing with her _boobs_ so close to him, _flaunting_ them while, _clearly_ they . . . were fake . . . ? he blinked. Fake boos? Who the heck would wear fake boobs? Okay, besides Bruce Wayne. And, and her _neckline_ , it was so low, _how_ had he missed the memo on the fakeness of them? He glanced down, drawn by a certain feeling of doom and inevitability. Yeah, and now Clark knew why "she" had taken such delight in tormenting him with Lex-in-a-dress.

He looked up again. Not grey eyes, but the palest blue, washed out by the vibrant red hair; it was, of course, fake. A barely noticeable scar Clark only knew about because of countless hours spent staring at the mouth it accented.

And then horror rushed through him. Oh, God. He had seen Lex's cock. He had broken his number one rule in relationships and unfairly used his powers to see the naked skin of his almost-but-not-quite-because-he-was-deliberately-blind-dearly-beloved. Clearly, he needed to do penance.

"I want my date to be you," he blurted out.

Sandra closed her mouth with a snap. "Okay, clearly, I didn't see that coming," she said. "Clark, how could you make a bet about a date with me when you only met me _tonight_?"

He frowned. "Cut it out, Lex, I know it's you." Sandra blinked some more and opened and closed her mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Clark continued gently, "And it's _you_ I want a date with. That way, _you_ can't give me the runaround about, well, anything!"

"Me?"

"Yeah, _you_." And maybe he shouldn't take so much joy in his penance, but, heck, he _won_ and part of the prize is to see Lex, who so rarely loses, _lose_. And it's all the sweeter because Lex obviously thought his disguise was so impenetrable he could spend all night teasing him, Clark.

Yeah, the taste of victory is _sweet_.

***

"So, I was thinking," Clark said, trying to be casual.The aftermath of their date was spread over the table between and with just a little stretch . . . . He could use Lex as a footstool. Of course, that backfired when Lex started massaging his feet in an extremely sexy manner.

"Oh? And here I thought we'd have to run screaming into the streets."

Clark nudged at him gently with the foot not currently being felt up, because kicking one's date did not bode well for the general luckiness of the night. "About our bet," he said, with probably a smidgen too much smugness.

"Oh?" Lex lifted an eyebrow and Clark spent a moment doing some dedicated thinking about its general hotness.

"Yeah, 'cause, you see, this girl I know told me that Lex Luthor often honours both sides of a bet. I thought," he paused to glare at Lex, just _daring_ him to make another comment, "maybe I could ask you about the validity of my source."

"Nice dictionary words," Lex murmured, hiding a grin. Clark had to nudge at him again. "Fine. it depends on the bet, but, generally, yes, I find it keeps potential allies . . . happier if I show a display of good sportsmanship."

"Good! 'Cause my dorm room's getting a bit, y'know, _crowded_ and you have all that empty space in your penthouse and, really, I'll be there all the time _anyway_ . . . ."

And now Lex was laughing at him. "Aren't you presuming a bit?"

Clark pretended to consider that for almost two whole seconds. "Nope. I'll need that whatever-room you have off the entertainment room for some study space, if that's okay with you. And some room in your closet, of course, because your bed's the comfiest in the penthouse."

"Really?"

And Clark nodded earnestly. "Really."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic originally had a piece of art I drew of "Sandra Beaumont". I remember I drew it because I was having a hell of a time coming up with inspiration. Maybe this fic needs a "crack" tag . . . . xx
> 
> I still have that art! Uh. Somewhere. It may show up here in the fullness of time. Hey, lookit that! I found it! ^^


End file.
